Immortal
by Lucifiel
Summary: Yaoi, Vicious/Spike. Slightly AU, I think. Before Julia.
1. Slater

Immortal

By Lucifiel

Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop is so incredibly good, I could never possibly claim any part of it as mine. 

__

I'm so tired of being here suppressed by all my childish fears 

And if you have to leave I wish that you would just leave 

'cause your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone 

These wounds won't seem to heal this pain is just too real 

There's just too much that time cannot erase 

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears when you'd scream 

I'd fight away all of your fears I held your hand through all of these 

Years but you still have all of me 

You used to captivate me by your resonating life now I'm bound 

By the life you left behind your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams 

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me 

These wounds won't seem to heal this pain is just too real 

There's just too much that time cannot erase 

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone 

But though you're still with me I've been alone all along 

~Evanescence "My Immortal"

It had never been very hard to tell what Spike was feeling. Although he tried to disguise his emotions, they always shone clearly on his boyish face.

Or maybe he did manage to hide them from everyone else…maybe Vicious was the only one who could see right through him.

"Hey Vicious…?" His voice.

"What?" The reply, gruff and seemingly uncaring.

"Uh, nothing. Never mind." Timid.

"I hate it when you do that shit. If you're going to say something, say it." Annoyed.

Spike grinned, reaching into his pocket to grasp a crisp pack of tobacco death. "Whatever, Vicious. What's up with you today?" Long, graceful fingers offered a cigarette.

"Hm." Vicious took the cylinder and accepted the light that came with it. He ignored the question and glanced around the sparse room. "What the fuck is your dysfunction, Spiegel? There's barely anything in this shithole apartment and somehow it's still a complete mess."

"Whatever, Vicious," Spike's grin remained, "Least I _got_ a place, You live in your fuckin' _car_, man." He took a long drag on his cigarette, "'Course, a one-room shithole ain't much better, eh?" A small laugh.

Vicious studied his companion, exhaling smoke. Spike's grin meant many things. He used it when he was sad and happy alike. Most couldn't tell if he was genuine or not. Vicious could. Spike's genuine grin was reserved for him, many times. He liked Spike's grin.

"No," Vicious snorted, answering Spike's rhetorical question, "It's not. By the way, Slater's supposed to stop by and give us orders today."

"Today? Fuck, when?!" Spike stopped grinning.

"Couple minutes." Vicious frowned, "What's the problem, you need more time to make yourself pretty for him?" Spike was wearing only a pair of loose pants, nothing more. Vicious was dressed in his usual tattered clothes and duster. It didn't matter to him. Slater knew they had nothing.

"Awww Vicious!" Spike ran around, snatching up his jeans and shirt. Off came the pants, and Vicious looked away, "Why the fuck didn't you _say_ so?!" 

"I didn't think I needed to. Why else would I be here?"

"Oh, I dunno. Because you're here almost every night?"

Vicious snorted, "Only because I can't afford cigarettes."

"Neither can I. I steal 'em." Spike was dressed, slipping on the ridiculous bomber jacket he always wore.

No sooner had the words come from Spike's mouth than the door bell rang. It was a sickly-sounding doorbell, but at least it worked. Spike and Vicious made no move to answer it until the doorbell rang in a strange pattern that faintly resembled the noise a dying mosquito made. 

Spike crossed to the door and opened it, a hand on the gun stashed in his pocket just in case.

Slater walked past Spike into the apartment like he owned the place. He did, so Vicious wasn't exactly surprised.

"Got a job for you boys." Slater turned and raped Spike with his eyes, "Knocking off some rat. 48947 Rio Street. The blue building with the clothing shop." He smirked at Spike, "You boys pick yourselves out some nice clothes, you hear me?"

Vicious rose and went to stand by Spike's side, "Why? We'll just dirty our clothes in the line of work we're in."

"There's a promotion for both of you if you pull this off." Slater winked at Spike, "Gotta look nice if you're to see the Elders, eh?"

"Seriously?!" Spike's eyes lit up, "Promoted to what?"

"That depends on how good you are." Vicious didn't miss the double meaning, and glared. Spike remained oblivious. Slater chuckled and continued, "Here's a photo of the guy. Knock yourselves out." He handed them a picture of a balding, mid-forty-year old man.

Vicious's lip started to curl, and by the time Slater left it had developed into a full-fledged snarl. Spike remained oblivious.

"Promoted! Vicious, this is awesome! Mao's gonna be proud!"

"Doesn't it bother you?" Vicious shook his head, "At all."

"Huh?"

"The way that fucker is itching to make you his personal plaything. Or hadn't you noticed for the past few _years_?"

"Oh." Spike grinned, "Yeah. But what are you gonna do, eh? I can't help being beautiful."

Vicious started, "You mean to tell me you've noticed all this time…and you've been letting _me _fend him off?"

"Uhmmm…"

"You little bastard!"

"Come on Vicious don't get pissed!" Spike laughed, dodging the cuff Vicious aimed at him, "It's not that big of a deal." Brown eyes laughed at him, "Don't be pissed. Awww Viiiiciouuus!!"

"Shut up, Spiegal." Vicious rose and continued to glare at Spike, "Let's go find this place. I could use some new clothes."

The grin again, wider, "Sure thing," Spike slid his shoes on, "Maybe we'll get some money. I want meat." 

"You always want meat," Vicious grabbed Spike's arm and hauled him outside, "I'm going to make you work for that last stunt, asshole."

"Man, you're such a fuckin' slave driver, Vicious!" Vicious snorted and shoved Spike into the car, making sure he banged his head on the way in. "Ow! Shit! Do you want a partner who can't focus due to a head injury, motherfucker?!"

"Shut up." Vicious got into the driver's seat and started his beat-up car. He listened to Spike's bitching until they, or _he_, rather, found the building. "I told you to shut up! We're here."

"Yeah, so? Don't tell me you just want to bust in there. We should wait until it gets darker and he leaves, at least."

Vicious was about to agree, however reluctantly, when a gunshot rang out. The front windshield exploded, covering them both in glass.

In a matter of seconds Spike and Vicious were on the opposite end of the car, in the gutter, covering their heads and returning fire.

"Shit! Those fuckers from the Tiger clan must have followed us! Didn't you notice them!?" Spike yelled, shooting.

Vicious deigned to reply, and Spike didn't press the issue. Both were too intent on surviving.

Spike dove to take cover behind a dumpster and managed to take out two of their attackers. "Yeah, it's those fuckers from the Tigers." Vicious nodded and dove across the narrow street, hiding behind another car and firing. Two more fell. He'd figured it was the Tigers from the start, seeing as how they were in their territory, but Spike's keen eyes had confirmed it. Why, and how had they found them? Territory or not, the Tiger's operatives rarely came to this part of their turf anyhow. Something was wrong.

"Must've been tipped off…there's no other way. Uhn!" One of the stray bullets hit the engine of the car, making it explode. Vicious was thrown backwards into the street, completely exposed. His ears rang from the explosion…he couldn't rise.

"Vicious!!" A figure darted in front of him and fired a barrage of shots at their attackers who, he could now see, were positioned in the windows across from the building Spike and Vicious had planned on entering. "Vicious, come on!" The voice seemed so far away…

He was picked up and hauled back across the street, behind the dumpster to cover. The smell of blood reached his nostrils. Blood…his blood, and Spike's blood. Spike had been shot.

Vicious forced himself to sit up. Spike was still firing at their opponents. He ducked down to reload and saw Vicious. "What the Hell, Vicious?! Lay back down before you die or some shit." Spike shed his jacket and tore his own shirt up to bandage Vicious. "You gonna be okay? You've got some luck…barely burned and scratched, 'cept for this gash on your side." 

"I'll be fine." Vicious's hearing had semi-returned, and he reached inside his duster, taking out his spare gun. "How are you?"

"Just a scratch," Spike popped up and shot. A scream, then the sound of a limp body hitting the pavement, "Get on your phone and call Slater. Tell him we need to be picked up. Now."

Vicious did as he said. "No one's answering."

"That's bullshit!! Fucker should answer his cell!"

"I called it."

"Shit…" Spike ducked again, using his jacket to stop his wound from bleeding out all over the pavement. 

"Where are you hit?" Vicious shifted and pulled the jacket from Spike. He frowned at what he saw, shaking his head, "You moron. Why'd you save me…" Vicious pushed Spike down when he tried to rise again and pinned him with a glare. "Busted collarbone. The bullet passed through, you'll live."

"I could've told you that." Spike growled, "This whole thing stinks, now that I think about it. Slater promising a promotion if we whack some fucker, guys from the Tigers waiting for us here…"

"You think we were set up?"

Before Spike could answer, a shadow fell across the both of them. Vicious spun, his gun aiming for the heart of…Slater? He lowered his weapon, "What the fuck, Slater?!" Behind him Vicious could see several of the Tiger's 'associates'. "It was you…fucking double agents…"

"Yes, it was me, dear Vicious." Slater simpered, aiming a gun at Vicious's head, "now kindly step away from Spike."

"What…?" Vicious was taken aback for a moment, then snarled, "You son of a bitch!" His hand started to slid toward one of many knives hidden on him.

A hand hell onto his shoulder, "It's okay, Vicious." Spike stood unsteadily, wobbling, with his hand still on Vicious's shoulder. "If I come, will you let Vicious go?"

Vicious was going to protest, kill, do something, anything but let his only real friend be taken by a horny two-timing bastard, but Slater spoke first. "Fine."

"No!" Vicious got to his feet as well, a murderous gleam in his eyes.

Spike squeezed his shoulder, "It's all right…you'll be alive." Twin amber eyes pleaded with Vicious not to do something stupid and get himself killed. In the end, Vicious could never refuse him anything.

"Come along, Spike." Slater stepped forward and seized Spike's arm, shaking his head, "We'll have to fix him up. I thought I told you idiots not to shoot him!"

"Couldn't be helped, boss." One of the Tigers muttered.

Vicious watched as Slater slipped an arm around Spike's waist and loaded him into a waiting limousine. He sighed, slumping to the ground. Mao was going to kill him.

All in all, not a very good day, he decided…

He got up and limped to his car. "Fucking Spike…can't stay out of trouble for two seconds." Vicious waited until Slater's limo drove away, then started his wreck up and sped after the retreating car, trailing them carefully.

To Be Continued…


	2. Sticky Situation

Immortal Part II

By Lucifiel

Disclaimer: Meh. This is old.

Vicious looked at his gas gauge and snarled a curse. Hopefully Spike's kidnappers planned to stop sometime soon, else Vicious might have to tail them on foot. Not that he minded, but it might make things a little more difficult for him.

Lucky for Vicious the car stopped outside a rather ugly little office building. It took him only a moment to realize that the building happened to be one of the Tiger's shitty bases of operations. "Real high class shit."

He backed up and parked behind a large ship, then exited the car and focused on his targets. The grunts got out first, making sure the surrounding area was secure before motioning Slater out. 

Vicious stifled his growl when Slater emerged, supporting the unconscious form of Spike. His partner's wound had been bandaged, and they had no doubt administered some sedatives to the young gangster. Spike wouldn't have fainted of his own accord. He was too tough for that.

Seconds later Vicious found himself rejoicing that he had parked so far away, because his cell phone rang. "Shit…" Vicious fumbled in his duster and pulled out the sleek little phone, "What?"

"Vicious, don't shout. Where are you two? Slater should have picked you up by now."

Vicious backtracked, "Mao. Yes Sir, he was supposed to. However, only Spike received the pleasure of his company."

A pause, "Tell me what has happened, Vicious."

"Slater took Spike. He's a double agent."

"Only Spike? Are you hurt?" Confusion, which was understandable. Normally a Syndicate boss would have killed him, not let him live. 

"It's nothing. I'm trailing Slater right now. The prick's probably one of their lawyers. He just took Spike into the Tiger's base. And what a base."

"I want him out of there."

"I'll get you back your Golden Boy, Mao." He hung up.

A quick sweep of the perimeter, and Vicious was able to deduce that there were guards at every window, door, and eve a few on the roof. He had only half a clip left and no silencer, along with his knives. "Definitely a lawyer." 

Syndicate lawyers were given special privileges such as the use of facilities, grunts, and weapons if they needed them, seeing as how they were the ones who got the Syndicate off with no more than a slap on the wrist most of the time. It sickened Vicious. He avoided lawyers like the plague; he'd never been in court. Just as well. It sounded boring.

Infiltration was his only option. _Thank God most of the Tigers wear those ridiculous masks…_

Vicious waited until a stray guard wandered too far, then pounced, slitting his throat with cool precision. He stripped the man of his clothing and put it on, fastening the mask in place. That done, he hid the body and continued on the man's patrol.

A mechanical voice sounded in his pocket, "Is anything wrong? Report!"

He searched and found the little matching earpiece/mouthpiece set that was standard for the guards and replied back, "No problems. All clear," in the best guard voice he could muster. 

"Carry on."

He let out a breath and continue walking, passing the front guards, who let him in without question. Just how stupid _were _the grunts working for the Tigers, anyway? Christ. Amateurs. 

Where was Spike? Probably on the top floor. Idiots like Slater enjoyed being high up. Made them feel important. Even though they weren't.

"Fucking Spike…"

------  


He didn't know how long he'd been out. The last thing he remembered was telling Vicious that he would be okay. Everything had gone dark shortly after that. They must have drugged him, the dirty bastards.

__

Fucking Slater. Fucking Tigers. Fucking drugs. I might as well still be out 'cause I can't fuckin' move!!!

Spike had been creeped out by Slater when they had first met a while ago. Partially because the man eyes Spike like he was a piece of fresh meat, and partially because the man wasn't genuine; as he and Vicious had found out too late. Vicious…

__

I'm never gonna hear the end of it if I get out of here…

He opened his eyes. The room was dimly lit by a few candles. The wafting spicy smell of sandalwood incense touched his nostrils. _Oh man…where the Hell am I?_ Bad.

Worse, he found that the reason he was unable to move was attributed to the fact that his wrists were handcuffed above him. _Fuck!!_ He was lying on a soft bed under soft sheets, naked but for the bandage on his collarbone. Soon he found that his feet were tied apart, under the sheets. A gag was fastened over and in his mouth, preventing speech.

__

Vicious, if ever there was a time for you to bust in here and kick some ass, now would be that time…

The door opened and Spike glanced over, hopeful…but it was Slater. What he wouldn't give for his gun at the moment…

"Now, now, Spike. Don't look so hostile. It's precisely because you always put on that ferocious exterior that we had to subdue you. Now just be quiet and everything will be fine." Slater moved toward him, starting to shed the robe he wore.

__

Aw, Hell!! You can't be serious…put your damn clothes back on!! Spike twisted his wrists furiously…he should have listened to Vicious when the man had tried to teach him how to get out of handcuffs!

"It's useless, Spike." Slater loomed over him. Spike's eye twitched. 

Slater threw the sheets aside and eased himself over Spike, stroking his cheek. "There now, Spike…calm yourself. No doubt Vicious did come for you. He is most likely dead. No one could break into this base and come out alive. Especially with his injuries. Hmm…it's not nice to scowl, my dear. Or are you afraid for him?" Slater removed the gag from Spike's mouth and kissed him before the younger man could protest.

__

Shit…Vicious, c'mon… Spike squeezed his eyes shut and prepared to bite the bastard's tongue off should he try to insert it. Instead, Slater's hand traveled down Spike's side and rested on the inside of his thigh. "You're perfect, do you know that? So beautiful…"

"Fuck you…Vicious is gonna put a new hole in your head." Spike was quite glad that the gag was gone. But his situation hadn't improved. "Let me up you ass-raping son of a bitch!"

"Don't make me gag that pretty mouth again," Slater's hand slipped lower, and a finger was inserted into his opening, probing him.

"What the HELL!?" Spike squirmed, flushing, "Stop, fucker!!" It _hurt_, too. It was a different kind of pain than he was used to. Slater added another finger coated in a slippery substance and stretched him, inducing another small cry from Spike. 

__

Vicious…

The door was kicked open and a guard entered, bleeding and covered in gashes. Slater turned and snarled, "I thought I said I didn't want to be disturbed!! Even _if_ that fool Vicious is attacking! That's what you're paid for, right? Fuck, can't do anything right…is he dead yet? Did he even fight?"

Spike wished he could vanish. The bastard was still stretching him, with _three_ fingers now. He threw his head back and clenched his teeth against another cry. Tears gathered at the edges of his eyes…he hadn't cried in years…

"He fought," the guard spoke, "He won." Spike froze. So did Slater. The guard removed his mask, revealing silver-white hair and pair of the fiercest eyes Spike had ever seen.

Slater gasped and scrambled away from Spike. He was dead in another second, shot in the head by Vicious's spare gun.

Spike turned his face away, "How about untying me, asshole? What took you?"

Vicious cut Spike's feet free and picked the handcuff's lock. He wiped Spike tear away, "Are you hurt?"

"…not much…" He got up slowly, like a lethargic cat, and wrapped the bed sheet around his torso. "Encounter much resistance?"

"A little sit _down_, idiot. I'll find you some clothes." Vicious shoved Spike into a sitting position on the bed and rooted around. "Hm…bad taste…"

"Did Mao get word of this?"

Vicious ignored the question and looked in the closet. He made a small, appreciative sound. Italian suits. In Spike's size. Which meant they'd be nearly perfect for him, too. "Ch. He must have wanted to keep you a while." He grabbed a grey suit that sported a long white scarf, reaching out to touch the fabric, feeling its soft texture.

"Put it on already." Spike's voice right by his ear. Vicious refused to jump, and took the suit. "I want this one…" Spike selected a blue suit with a high collar and a yellow undershirt. It looked ridiculous, but he loved it, looking at himself in the mirrors and acting like some five year old.

Vicious took a quick shower before adorning his suit, turning the water to hot and letting his gashes burn. He looked amazing in it. The color brought out his eyes, making them even fiercer. 

"Daaaamn. Lookin' good, Vicious!" Spike nudged him, grinning. A hollow grin. Vicious raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you really all right?"

"My ass hurts, but--"

"That prick raped you?!" Vicious whirled, teeth bared.

Spike wiggled his fingers, "Just with these."

A tiny sigh of relief, then anger again. He almost wished Slater was alive so he could kill him again. Vicious frowned over at Spike, who retained the grin, but dug nervously at the carpet with his ridiculous shoes.

"Come on, don't look at me like that," Spike nudged him, "I'll be okay. Just give me a minute."

"Shit like that won't leave you."

"Eh?"

"You'll always remember the helplessness you felt, the pain, and the horror, thinking that no one is coming for you."

"But _you_ came."

"Given the right amount of time he could have made you doubt that. You'll never forget, so don't waste time trying."

"Hmph. Some big help you are, fucker." Spike grumbled and shuffled around some more, then asked, "Hey, did you kill_ everyone?_"   
  
"Yeah."

"Fuck yeah! You're the man, Vicious!"

"I suppose I am, yes."

To Be Continued…


	3. All Grown Up

Immortal Chapter III

By Lucifiel

Disclaimer: -_-

__

Years later, after Julia…

He was in a situation he didn't want to be in, going someplace he didn't want to go....on a mission he didn't want to do. Spike Spiegal's right eyebrow twitched as he grilled a doped-up prostitute for information. He hated the red light district.  


Vicious sat hunched over his half-filled highball of whiskey in what he deemed to be a very generic bar. Smoke filled, cut through with the dim greasy light of old bulbs. He rubbed his fingers over the cheap stickiness of the bartop. He wasn't in the most sociable of moods::  


Spike finished trying to keep the Prostitute from melting into the wall and entered the bar on his right, shaking his head...he lit a cigarette and dropped the match on the dirty floor, wrinkling his nose at the state of the bar....it wasn't the best bar he'd ever been in...but he'd been in worse.  


The silver-haired gangster picked up the dingy glass and threw back the last watery dregs of his drink, feeling the ice cubes rattle against his lips. Their sudden contact with his lips made a little spark run up his spine. He rather liked the sensation, but something else made the fine hairs on the nape of his neck prickle. He slowly put the glass down, his focus now elsewhere.  


Being as annoyed as he was, Spike didn't notice anything, and made his way to the pool table, seeing that no one was playing...he grabbed and cue and started gathering the balls.  


Vicious stood up from his stool. He was faintly amused, how rare it was for Spike to show himself so readily. Rare, and uncharacteristically foolish. He must have had a bad day to put him off so much. Vicious allowed himself a faint smile and made his way towards the pool table.

  
Spike aimed, his eyes narrowing at the triangle of spheres, sizing it up....his neglected cigarette dropped its load of ash.  


Vicious waited just beyond the neon glare of the flourescents that hung above the table. He watched Spike make his shot.  


Spike took the shot, sending five of the balls into the pockets with no problem...he smirked a little...at least his aim wasn't off.  


"Nice shot…" Vicious smiled, his peculiar eyes glinted, whether with amusement or derision it was hard to tell.  


Spike must have jumped about five feet in the air before spinning around to face Vicious.  


"I could have killed you five times over by now...you're not always this careless."  


"Ch...I'd have noticed you were trying when you stabbed me." He waved a hand, "I'm not in the mood for you."  


"Are you ever?" Vicious left the shadows and wandered into the light of the table, "Bad case, I'll take it…"  


Spike leaned on the edge of the pool table, resining his cue, "Yeah, you could say that. Talking to some crack whore doesn't really make my day."  


Vicious shook his end in almost a patronizing manner. He brushed by Spike, taking the pool cue from him. He retrieved the little blue lump of chalk and polished the end of the cue. He bent to examine the new shot, "You're desperate…"  


He frowned, his eyebrow twitching again, "What would make you think that?"  


Vicious scoffed, perhaps as much as a laugh anybody would get out of him, "Did you really think a crack-whore could tell you anything worth while?" He lined up the cue and sank the shot easily.  


"Eehh you never know. I've actually solved my share of cases based on underground info. They see everything. That one, though...geh," He scratched his head, "What are you doing down here?"  


"Cheap drinks," Vicious raised his head to look up at Spike with a little smirk. If he had any ulterior motive for being there, he wasn't telling.  


Spike wrinkled his nose, "Yeah, yeah…"  


"You wouldn't care to know anyway. You don't like to associate with the old crowd." He aligned the cue again, steadying it with thin fingers.  


He narrowed his eyes, "Are you planning something again?"  


"Nothing that has to concern you, unless you concern yourself…" He took the shot, watching as his calculated shot richocheted into a corner pocket. He straightened and focused on Spike again.  
Spike looked away, reaching a trembling hand into his pocket for another cigarette, "What does it concern, then?"  


"Begging for trouble, Spike?" He moved in closer and gripped his chin in a gloved hand, "Or are you just that keen to open old wounds…"  


Something flickered in his eyes for a moment, then he jerked his head away, "I just want to know if you idiots are planning to blow up half the damned city so I can leave in time."  


Vicious smirked again, "Why would I tell you that? Don't bother playing hero this time, Spike…" He put the cue down and rubbed the lingering patina of blue dust between his fingers. He retrieved his katana from where he left it leaning against the table.  


Spike glared and moved forward, his hand reaching for his gun.  


Vicious paused and looked over his shoulder at Spike, "Are you going to start a fight here?"  


"Like I'd really miss anyone here." He pointed his gun at Vicious's heart, "Tell me what you're up to."  


"It would require that I kill you and this entire bar if I said anything aloud. Stay out of this Spike. You are another concern altogether." Vicious headed for the door.

Spike stepped forward and grabbed Vicious's arm, "Hold on a minute." He held the gun to the back of the taller man's head. "If you think I'm letting you go with what you just told me, you're crazy."  


"Some have told me that...I prefer not to have to deal with _their_ squealing like stuck pigs," Vicious gestured to the few lingering barflies, "Come outside, there at least we might kill each other in relative peace"  


Spike considered, then nodded, withdrawing the gun...he stepped out of the bar, frowning, "Let's go, then."

Vicious stepped through the doors and slipped into a narrow alleyway. Spike followed silently, slipping the safety back onto his gun and putting it inside his jacket. Vicious stopped and leaned against a rusting wire fence that caged off a motely pile of crates. "You've never been keen to know what the Red Dragon was up to before...what's on your mind…"  


Spike stopped and took out another cigarette, searching in his pockets for a light. "Just curious." Vicious was silent for a moment as he watched Spike fumble for the lighter. Then reached across into the breast pocket of Spike's jacket and pulled the object out, he held it out to Spike.  


He blushed, turning his face away a little to hide it, and accepted the lighter. Vicious then allowed his hand to trail up to where he used his fingers to gently bring Spike's face back around. "...you've aged since I last saw you."  


Spike averted his eyes, but the blush remained. "I guess. So have you. "  


"In our trades, its hard not to…" He ran a gloved finger over the edge of Spike's bottom lip.  


He shuddered, the lip trembling, "Yeah. Guess so."  


With an apparent lack of all pretense, Vicious tightened his grip on Spike's chin and leaned in, firmly claiming his lips with his own. Two different colored brown eyes widened, and Spike froze, gasping into Vicious's mouth.  


Vicious pulled away a little just enough for him to speak. "Aren't you going to stop me?"  


He stood there, panting slightly. "Why...did you just do that?"  


"It could be the liquor," Vicious gave a small hint of a smirk. The two had helped themselves to some of the contents in the wet bar, compliments of the late Mr. Slater.   


Spike glared, bringing a hand up to touch his own lips. "That must be it."  
  
"You haven't shot me yet, that might be a good sign."   


He snorted and looked away, "Ch."  


Vicious pressed closer, his lips grazing against the rise of a cheekbone, his hand snaking its way into Spike's jacket. A small, barely audible moan escaped from Spike's half-parted lips...his cheeks flushed red again, "Vi--"  


His fingers curled around the stock of the gun and he pulled it from Spike's pocket. He dropped it onto the alley floor and kicked it a distance away, "...and now you can't…" He took the opportunity of Spike opening his mouth to speak to seize his mouth in a captive seige.  


Spike tried to pull away, get to his gun... "Bastard...it's no good trying to seduce a lonely guy l-like me…" He grasped Vicious's arms, "Vicious…"  


Vicious pulled him back, "You don't have anything to lose anymore, why do you still fight…" One hand went to curl itself about the back of Spike's neck, rubbing gentle fingers over the skin.  


"Ngh…" Spike turned his face away, "Vicious, cut it out." Vicious leaned and put his lips to the column of Spike's throat, seeking the softest flesh to tease with tongue and gentle kisses. "V-Vicious...!" Spike shuddered, shoving at him. 

Vicious gripped Spike's shoulder firmly and turned, pushing him up against the fencing, "We've cornered ourselves into a spot where dignity and pride mean nothing anymore. Where any purpose we make for ourselves is meaningless. Do you want to continue living this way? To keep on lying to yourself that where you go and what you do matters anymore…"  


He growled, turning his face away, "I'm not lying to anyone. I don't care anymore...got no one to lie to."

  
"Then why are you fighting me. Why bother fighting at all." Vicious's hand tugged at Spike's shirt collar to loosen it, slipping the buttons free one by one.  


"Because I…" Spike snarled, frustration evident on his face.  


Vicious pulled the shirt and jacket down over Spike's shoulders, kneading the taut muscle with his hands. He leaned in to kiss him again, gently. "The world has already long since passed us by...we can't hope to catch up now…"  


He closed his eyes, savoring the kiss, "I know...but...somehow…"  


"But...?" His hand grazed along the chiseled angles of Spike's chest and stomach, coming to rest only to toy with his belt buckle.  


"I keep living…even though I've got no reason to…"  


"Because you will die at my hands...not a moment before…" Vicious once again bent to seize Spike in a savage kiss, He had undone the belt and now slipped his hand under the waistband of his slacks.  
  
Spike jumped, eyes very wide, "Vicious!" Vicious only offered a knowing smile while he purposely rubbed the hand up against his groin. Spike covered his own mouth with a hand to keep from crying out...the other hand clutched Vicious's arm in a vise-like grip.   


Vicious tugged the obstructing garments down over Spike's hips and pinned him tighter against the fence both with his body and with his lips against Spike's as he undid the zip on his own black slacks. The hand clutching Vicious's arm moved to grab the links of the fence behind him to steady himself...Spike kept the hand over his mouth, closing his eyes once more. Vicious wrapped an arm about Spike's waist, pulled his hips toward him and slid forward and in with cool precision.  


Spike threw his head back, a choked snarl emerging...the hand clutching the fence tightened, and the hand covering his mouth fell away.  


Vicious seized his lips again, tongue seeking to join with Spike's. He rocked against his narrow hips, more intent on enticing a reaction out of Spike than his own pleasure. Spike's gutteral growls escalated, and his tongue finally inched forward, if a bit timidly, to join with Vicious's.

Vicious made a pleased sound in the back of his throat as he twined his tongue about Spike's, the thrusts of his hips no longer so gentle.  


His body shook, and his eyebrows knitted together, the only sign that Spike was indeed in intense pain. He had no idea that something could be painful and pleasurable at the same time....he'd never been intimate with a man before.  


Vicious's hand curled about Spike's leg, fingers brushing against the smooth flesh of his inner thigh. He pulled away from the kiss, and allowed his head to fall back slightly, those his eyes watched Spike intently, a little smile gracing his lips::  


Hooded eyes sparked with hundreds of conflicting emotions...Spike bit his lip, his breath coming in short gasps from his recently parted lips::   


"Don't tell me you're resisting, Spike…" He pushed harder against his hips, his smile was darkly amused.  


"W-When....this stops....I'm...nngh!!!....gonna kick your ass…" Spike managed to glare, his mouth contorting into something between a sneer and a pout.  


"Damn stubborn, I don't know why you even bother…" He moved to lightly lip the flesh right below Spike's ear lobe. The teasing grew to small bites. For a brief moment, Vicious's muscles tensed, he gave a slight gasp into Spike's ear, his movements stopped, his hips pressed to Spike's. He eased just as quickly as he tensed. 

Spike's entire body arched, then relaxed...his eyes closed and he leaned against Vicious's chest, panting. Vicious lay his head against Spike's shoulder for a moment before pulling away, but he kept Spike caged within his arms. "You're fucking pig-headed to the last…"

"Ch...this...was a bit...you know, sudden…" He felt weaker than he had in years...even when he had been intimate with Julia, it hadn't been like this…   


"I doubt it would have worked quite as well if I planned this." Vicious smirked.  


"I guess." Spike managed to smirk back, "Bastard."  


"Of course…" Vicious smothered him in one more domineering kiss before pulling away entirely. He rearranged his clothes, and pulled his duster closed around him. He still wore his dark smile as he surveyed Spike, but kept his thoughts to himself.  


Spike reached for his clothing, wincing, "Man...couldn't you have made it less utterly fuckin' painful?"  


"Comfort, Spike? I don't think the formalities would suit you at all…"  


"So he rips my ass open.…" Spike stood and eased into his pants, "...prick.…"  


"I would say you will get used to it, but somehow I don't think that's appropriate here."

  
Spike's eyebrow twitched, "If you think you're doing that again anytime soon…" He slipped into his shirt, zipped and buttoned his pants, "...you're nuts." Spike wrinkled his nose at Vicious.   


"It doesn't have to be me. You won't let your guard down again, will you? Unless you let me, of course."   


He blushed and walked over to his gun, pained. "Oooh. No, I won't." Spike thought about Vicious's last comment, "...maybe."  


Vicious laughed lightly, "I'm glad you liked it so much."  


Spike straightened himself out and slipped his gun into his jacket pocket, "Yeah, yeah. Glad to see you're so amused. Now if you'll excuse me…I have to be getting back."

Vicious pointed the end of the hilt of his sword toward Spike's pocket, "Then you wont be killing me today."  


He sighed, "No, I guess not. You caught a break." A pause, "...so tell me what you're doing?"  


"...this district is a notorious hangout for a growing group that had the balls to compare itself to the Red Dragon...that's more than enough. This area's crawling with them…"  


"Ch, that's IT?!" Spike sighed again and took a cigarette out of his pocket, fumbling again for his lighter, "Jeez…we went through the same thing a billion times before…they still haven't stopped that shit?"  


"I have free reign to do whatever I like to get rid of competition. Of course, they can't know what that is. In any case, I can't have anyone else catch wind of this. The Red Dragon sees a lot of money and bureaucratic shit riding on their elimination."  


Spike nodded, finally finding his lighter and lighting his cigarette...he took a deep breath, then exhaled smoke, "I won't do anything. You have my word."  
"...well then...I have to find myself someone to kill or else the ones sitting on their asses back at headquarters will question."   
  
"The ones back at headquarters are very good at what they do." Spike grinned, his eyes twinkling.  


"Too good...Red Dragons going soft because of them."  


"You aren't." Spike took a drag off his cigarette.  


"Just one out of many, but that doesn't matter. They don't matter."  


He cocked his head to the side, "What are you going to do?"  


"That would get you involved. You don't want that."  


"Are you so sure?"

"It's Red Dragon business. You are dead to the syndicate."  


"Ch, so?" Spike shrugged, "I can just as easily find out if you don't tell me."  


"You do that...but if you get caught in the crossfire, I can't help with that…"  


Spike smiled and turned, walking out of the alley, "I'll be seeing you, I guess."  


"Right…" Vicious followed Spike out, as the alley was a dead end, but headed in the opposite direction.  


Spike straightened his collar and ran a hand through his hair, blowing smoke...he walked through the slums, trying to find his way out. "I hate this."  


The streets were dark, with the street lights out and never maintained. They were eerily empty as well, though the sounds of cars flying along main roads could be heard in the distance. Still, light and the strains of discordant and battered old rock records filtered from a converted little tenemant down the way, now apparently serving as a bar local for late night and no doubt less than legal activities.  


It started to rain. Spike glared up at the sky and twitched. "It's really not fair…" He eyed the bar with distaste, but headed for it anyway. "Nn. Whatever happens, happens."

  



End file.
